Dragon Age: Warden's War Stories
by SnarkKnight
Summary: A war-weary Grey Warden recounts his memories of the Blight.


**Dragon Age: Warden's War Stories**

By Snark Knight

_**Author's Notes: Okay, you know the drill, I own all of exactly nothing, Bioware owns all characters, concepts, and intellectual property for their awesome world, and this story will contain violence, some suggestive themes, and very mild profanity. Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business!**_

**Prologue**

My name is Galen. And I am a Grey Warden.

It wasn't something that I wanted. But then, nothing in my life ever was. First a mage, and then a Warden. Some would say that I was twice-cursed. The Maker, it seems, had very specific plans for me, and all I could do was make the most of it.

Looking back, I can't say that it was a happy time. The Blight had come to Ferelden, the Grey Wardens were pushed to the brink, and death and desolation were the order of the day. But…it wasn't all grim. Not all the time.

Irving always said that you never really know who you are until you're pushed. I guess the same thing applies to nations. Ferelden was tested, forged in the crucible of the Blight. And somehow, impossibly, we won. We survived, and killed the Blight before it killed us.

It's only been a few years, yet the bards have begun to sing of the Blight, of the Wardens, and…of me. And that's why I'm writing this. To share my story, and to tell the truth, as best as I can, and to speak for those who can no longer speak for themselves.

I have been given dispensation from the First Warden to reveal secrets that no outsider has ever known before, in the interests of preventing another Loghain, and with this knowledge, all of Thedas will finally know why it needs the Grey Wardens.

Leliana always said that history was a living thing, and that as time passes, the voices of the real men and women who lived it fade away, subsumed by their own legend. By telling their story, I can only hope that they can live on, even if it's just a little while longer.

Even if it's only in memory.

It should have been me.

**Chapter One: Home Is Where The Hurt Is.**

For the record, being a mage of the Circle isn't all that bad. Not after a while. I grew up literate and well-educated, and enjoyed a standard of living that many in Ferelden could only have dreamt of. Working magic was dangerous and difficult, but incredibly rewarding as well. I've tried to describe the thrill of _willing_ something into existence to my non-mage companions over the years, and I've never quite got the grasp of it.

Magic can be dangerous, to be sure. But it is a gift, of that I've never had any doubt.

It's the reaction of others to that gift that causes the problems. Irving used to tell us that, as much as the Templars were to guard others from us, they also protected us from others. What was left unsaid was that, if the Chantry didn't constantly condemn us as the sole source of all mankind's ills, and just let us show how helpful we could be, we might not be in such danger.

The turning point of a mage's career, the single most important day of his life, is the day he undergoes The Harrowing. Every mage reading this now will know of what I speak. To all others, just know that the Harrowing is the ultimate test of a mage, and those who undergo it have emerged stronger, wiser, and ready to face the dangers of magic.

Life is never fair to any of us, but I must confess that the knowledge that I was set on the path to the Grey Wardens within _hours_ of such a trial still strikes me as being a sign that the Maker, hallowed be His name, did not like me very much.

Which brings me to Jowan.

Apprentices in the Circle are always close, out of necessity, if not affection. Between the Templars, the superstitious peasants on the outside, and even, from time to time, our own mentors, it really is us against the world. It forms a natural fraternity, one that serves the adult mages well when it becomes their turn to run the Circle.

But, with every family, there's always one. There's always one member who always manages to make a wreck of everything, no matter how hard he tries not to. In our family, that role fell to Jowan.

He came to me, waking me up after the exhausting trial of the Harrowing.

"Galen, get up! Galen?"

I can still see him standing there, dark hair a mess, his lips slightly quivering in a nervous tic. His eyes were always darting about, trying their hardest to take in everything going on around him all at once. The robes of a Circle Apprentice never seemed to fit him properly, and I remember he always used to kick the hem of his robes as he walked.

I never thought that I would say this, but I miss Jowan.

At any rate, I was roused from my troubled sleep by my anxious friend.

"Jowan? What's wrong?"

He licked his lips and glanced to one side before he spoke. "I saw them bring you down here from the Harrowing chamber. I know I'm not supposed to ask you about it, but what was it like?"

That was Jowan summed up in one question. In retrospect, he was never really a bad person, and he knew that there were things he wasn't supposed to do, but he just…had to ask.

I, on the other hand, knew the potential costs of such curiosity, and followed the rules scrupulously.

"You know we're friends, but don't ask this of me. You know I can't tell you."

He sighed. "I figured you'd say that. And now you get to move to the nice Mage's Quarters upstairs, while I'm stuck down here, and there's no telling when they'll call me up and-"

"They'll call you when you're ready." I cut him off before he could get one of his rants really going.

"But I'm ready now!"

He really did whine a lot.

"I've been here longer than you have. Maybe….maybe they'll make me Tranquil!"

There is one way to cut off a mage's access to his magic, short of killing him. But when you do, it cuts them off from the Fade entirely, and they become emotionless husks of human beings. We call these poor wretches the Tranquil. They have no dreams, no feelings, and they scare the Fade out of every mage in Thedas.

I sighed. "Look, they're not going to make you Tranquil. Just be patient, keep your head down, and you'll be called up before you know it."

"I…I suppose you're right. Irving wanted to see you, when you woke. Will you be able to talk later?"

"I'll find you when I have the time."

The Circle Tower of Ferelden is divided by floors. The first floor is where the apprentices live and train. The second houses the mages proper, and is where the First Enchanter has his office. The third is where the Templars live, and the Harrowing chamber is at the very top. I made my way to the First Enchanter's office, but stopped when I heard voices.

"We have given enough of our own to this war effort!"

I recognized immediately the gruff voice of Knight-Commander Gregoir, the leader of the Templars at the Circle.

"Wynne, Uldred, and most of the Senior Enchanters have already gone to Ostagar!"

"Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Gregoir?" First Enchanter Irving had the amazing ability to tease the Knight-Commander just enough to get him to see his point without antagonizing him.

Forget throwing fireballs, that's real magic if ever it existed.

"Or perhaps you fear letting the mages out from Chantry control, where they can actually _use_ their Maker-given powers?"

Oops.

"How dare you suggest-"

I decided that that would be a good time to step in before Gregoir got _really _angry. As I stepped into the doorway, I saw a third figure, a stranger in strange grey-steel armor, swarthy and bearded in the fashion of the Tevinter.

The stranger cleared his throat. "Excuse me, gentlemen, it seems we have a visitor."

"Hello, First Enchanter. You sent for me?" It wasn't the first time I'd defused a situation that way.

Irving held out his arms, pride glinting in his eyes. "Ah, if it isn't our new brother in the Circle. Come, child."

The Knight-Commander was obviously torn between his desire to say more and his inability to order a newly-minted mage away from his graduation ceremony. Finally, he just declared that their conversation would continue later, and stomped off, his plate armor clanking down the hallway.

"You are to be congratulated for completing the Harrowing," he said. "You are now a Mage of the Circle proper."

He handed to me a ring of lyrium and silver, engraved with arcane symbols. "This ring shows to all that you are a full mage of the Circle. As well, you have a mage's robe and staff. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

What I really wanted was a decent pair of trousers. Pants. Leggings. Something other than drafty, awkward robes. But, as with most aspects of a mage's life, such things were not to be questioned.

"Thank you, First Enchanter." I felt the slight trill of refined lyrium as I slipped the ring onto my finger.

"I would like you to meet Duncan, of the Grey Wardens." The dark man standing next to the First Enchanter nodded politely.

"Greetings," I said, perhaps a little blandly. It's not every day one meets a legend, especially not in the Tower.

"The Grey Wardens are peerless warriors and defend all of Thedas against the scourge of the darkspawn. He is here to recruit mages for the King's Army."

_That_ got my attention. Mages in the army? The _King's_ Army? I could leave the Tower, see Ferelden, maybe torch some darkspawn and return home a hero. It would be the adventure of a lifetime!

Maker, I was so young.

Irving was saying something, and I snapped back to focus. Something about having the day off, I think. Then he asked me to show the Grey Warden, Duncan, to the guest quarters. Perfect.

I took the robes and staff under my arm, shook the First Enchanter's hand one last time, and gestured for Duncan to follow me. We walked in silence through the hallways of the Tower, as mages, Templars, and the Tranquil went about their daily business.

When we reached the guest quarters, Duncan spoke first. "Thank you for showing me here. The Tower is…quite large."

"It was my pleasure," I said. "If it's not too much trouble, I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course."

"Is the King really recruiting mages? What about the darkspawn? What's the army like? What's going on in the rest of Ferelden? Can I join the army?"

It's been years since that first conversation, and to this day I still groan at the memory of how I blurted out all of those questions like a breathless child.

"Easy, easy now, one at a time." Duncan had a smooth, friendly voice, and an easy laugh. What few tales we'd heard of the Grey Wardens painted them as stoic, grim warriors, as soon to kill you as speak to you. Duncan wasn't like that at all. He could make everyone feel like a friend, could put anyone at ease.

"As to the question of the King's Army, yes, we are recruiting mages. When King Cailan first put out the call, the Circle only sent seven mages. I've come to seek a greater commitment from the Circle. I cannot do with just seven."

"Do you think I could join the King's Army?"

A slight smile crossed his lips. "I don't know. Do you?"

"Yes. I would like to help defend Ferelden."

"Well. Maybe I could speak to Irving about this later."

We spoke some more, discussing darkspawn and Grey Wardens, and just how useful mages could be in the war that the King was waging. I took my leave of Duncan and found my new quarters.

I remember tying my hair back in a long braid that fell down my back, and strutting in front of the mirror in my new robes, posing with the staff and daydreaming about raining fire and arcane destruction on hordes of slavering darkspawn. In my mind, I saved the Army from certain defeat and single-handedly laid waste to the enemy, being raised up as a hero, being given medals and commendations from the King himself, and returning to the Tower in glory.

Sometimes, I miss those dreams. They died hard when they met reality.

"Ah-hem?"

I nearly dropped my staff in mid-twirl, and spun to see who was there, blushing furiously. Jowan was standing at the entrance to my quarters, looking as nervous and twitchy as ever.

"If you're done playing with your staff, I needed to speak to you. Are you finished speaking with Irving?"

"Er…yes, I think I am. For now."

"Sure."

"You, uh…you don't need to tell anyone else about what you might have seen, okay?"

Finally, a smile. "Of course. I can keep a secret if you can."

I'm going to take a moment for the overwhelming irony of that exchange to settle in my mind.

Jowan led me to the Chantry chapel, before standing next to a pretty young Initiate. "Okay, we can speak here."

I remember the confusion that I had. Before, it was always us against them, and here he was with one of _them._ "You know that there's a priest standing right here, right?"

The woman spoke up. "Not a priest, merely an Initiate."

"Jowan…what's going on?"

I swear he smirked. "You know how a while back, I told you that I'd…met a girl? Well, this is her. Her name is Lily."

In retrospect, it's a miracle of Andraste that Jowan survived to adulthood at all.

"You know that that's forbidden, Jowan. You _know_."

He seemed a bit taken aback by how upset I was. "I know it's forbidden, but…one night, I was out by the Chapel, and I heard the Chant of Light, only….only I'd never heard how beautiful it really was before. I was drawn in, and that's where I met Lily."

I could feel a massive headache coming.

Lily spoke up next. "Jowan isn't like the other mages. He's so…earnest and honest, it's like he isn't even a mage at all. I couldn't help but feel for him."

Yes. That was it. That's that pressure behind my forehead.

"Great. Wonderful. Good for you, have a whole gaggle of children," I spat. "But what, exactly, does any of this have to do with _me?_"

Jowan reached up and scratched the back of his head. I'd known him long enough to know that whenever he did that, he'd managed to haul off and get himself in trouble again.

"You know how this morning, I told you that they were going to make me Tranquil? That's because they _are_! Lily saw the authorization for the Rite of Tranquility of Gregoir's desk, and Irving had signed it!"

I could feel my jaw start to clench. I hadn't been finished with the Harrowing for even a day yet, and here was Jowan dropping all of this on me. "What aren't you telling me, Jowan?" I asked.

"Why would they want to make you Tranquil?"

"There's a rumor going around that…that I'm a Blood Mage. That making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone!"

I felt myself go cold. Blood magic is the demonic power that all mages need to resist. It can give mages the power to control minds, makes their magic unbelievably potent, and can grant them access to the demons of the Fade.

It's also a death sentence to every mage caught using it. Or even being _suspected_ of using it.

"And are they right about that? Are you a Blood Mage?"

Jowan took a step back, hands up before him. "What?! Of course not! They…they must've seen me sneaking about to go see Lily, and they just _assumed_ that I was a Blood Mage! Please, I need your help, they're going to make me Tranquil! All of my dreams and feelings-my love for Lily, all gone! Please, if I ever meant anything to you, please help me!"

I sighed. "What, exactly, do you think I can do to help you?"

Lily stepped in. "Promise that you'll help us first. Then, we'll tell you the plan."

I saw the pleading in Jowan's eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead.

"I promise that I'll help you. Now, tell me the plan."

Lily leaned in, her words a hushed whisper. "We need to get to the Repository and destroy Jowan's Phylactery. The Repository is guarded by two doors, one magical, the other mundane. I have the password to open the first door, but the second is opened by two keys simultaneously, one from a Templar, the other from a Mage. We can't get our hands on both keys, so we need a Rod of Fire to burn through the lock. But Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices."

I nodded. "This is where I come in. You've been planning this for some time, haven't you?"

Jowan nodded. "I know it's a lot to ask of you. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"Okay. You two wait here. I'll be back with the Rod of Fire."

I felt numb as I left them there. Cold. Jowan and I had been best friends since we were eight years old. He helped me cast my first spell…and had been the one to get help when I'd frozen my shoes to the floor. There had been pranks played on Templars, girls' rooms raided, and our dual-apprenticeship to the First Enchanter himself.

He was as much my brother as could've been born from blood. But there was more at stake here than one man, no matter how long I'd known him. Even if his plan worked-and I wasn't sure that it would-the Templars would know that he had help. And there was no guarantee that they would accept that it was only myself who helped him.

The fact was, the Silver Sword of the Chantry hung over the head of every man, woman, and child at the Circle.

I stepped into Irving's office and betrayed my best friend.

I betrayed my best friend.

It's strange, seeing it there, in ink on vellum. I'd known it to be true for so long, but seeing it there, stark and unchanging, unalterable for all time, for all the world to know…

I never claimed to be a good person. Just Galen. A mage, and later, a Grey Warden.

Duncan once told me that Wardens aren't really made, but born. That the Joining just finds those who were meant to be Wardens and brings the truth to the fore. Maybe he's right. Or maybe I'm just telling myself that, to justify the things I've done.

I betrayed my best friend.

I saw Irving sitting at his desk. If Jowan was the closest thing to a brother that I'd ever had, then the First Enchanter was my father. We were his personal apprentices, two of the most powerful and talented apprentices in Ferelden, and his pride and joy. How could I tell him that one son had betrayed the other?

"I trust you saw Duncan to his room?" He was so very casual as he spoke.

"Of course, First Enchanter."

He must have known something was wrong from my voice. He immediately put down his pen and focused on me.

"What's wrong, child?"

"Jowan says that he's going to be made Tranquil."

"Oh?" he arched an eyebrow. "And how does he know that? I suspect that the Initiate he dallies with told him."

I was stunned. He knew? He _knew_?!

"Do not be so surprised. I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears closed to what happens in the Tower."

"Then you must know that he plans to escape."

"No…no, I didn't. Though I suppose Lily must be behind it. Yes, she would know more of the Repository than he."

"Please, please don't do this to Jowan. The Chantry must be lying or…or…" I had to stop as my throat tightened and tears began to well in my eyes.

Yes, I cried. Yes, Galen Amell, the future Hero of Ferelden, cried.

Irving stood and walked over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Gregoir says that he has proof that Jowan has been practicing Blood Magic…and witnesses. Mage witnesses as well. Perhaps if it were simply up to me, things might be different, but…no. I'm sorry. Jowan will be made Tranquil."

His hand on my shoulder squeezed then, and I looked up, into his eyes, and saw a hard set to them. "But if I must see my apprentice punished, then I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while Jowan suffers."

I nodded. "What's your plan?"

"Have they told you their plan? Do they trust you?"

"I'm to get a Rod of Fire and use it on the second door."

"Ah…"

"Is there something wrong?"

Irving let go of my shoulder and took a step back, pacing his office while stroking his long grey beard.

"The second door is warded against magic-a Rod of Fire simply won't work. But…there may be another way into the Phylactery Chamber…yes…there is a second door that leads into a different part of the Repository. There is a wall that has been weakened from water…and a Tevinter artifact that amplifies any spell cast upon it. Simply aim it at the wall and use the Rod of Fire."

"I will do as you say."

Irving stopped and sighed. "I will be there before you leave, with Gregoir and a contingent of Templars. Let them see the trouble into which their Initiate led _my_ apprentice. Do this, and you will be rewarded for your dedication to the Circle."

I turned to leave, when Irving stopped me. "Do not be quick to suggest the side door. Let them think that it was their idea. And do not let them know that we know that they're planning an escape. That is our foremost advantage, and Jowan may be more dangerous than we know."

If anyone ever needs a single source to blame for my talent at scheming, planning, and general bastardry, look no further than First Enchanter Irving.

We took the Repository by storm, and just as Irving predicted, the Rod of Fire was useless against the second door. I let them dither a bit before Lily noticed the side door. A surge of magical flame later, and we were into the side chamber. There was a Tevinter statue shaped like a dog, which amplified the flame into a powerful gout of magical destruction that blasted the wall down and allowed us entry into the Phylactery Chamber.

It was cold, I remember that. The magical blood-filled vials lined the walls, and after a moment of searching, Jowan found one with his name labeled underneath. He held it in his hands, staring at it.

"Such a small thing, " he said softly. "But with such a hold over me. So simple to just…drop it."

The vial hit the ground with a small crash.

"And I am free."

Were any of us ever free?

I knew it was coming. It was so hard to see the hope on his face as he took Lily's hand and they ran to the stairs. The joy. The future that they were planning. They never knew that they were doomed before they even started.

As we emerged from the Repository, Irving, Knight-Commander Gregoir, and a half-dozen Templar knights in full plate armor were waiting for us.

"Don't move, Blood Mage." Gregoir had his sword drawn.

"Wh-what?" Jowan stopped as though he'd run into a wall.

Gregoir stormed over to Lily and grabbed her chin roughly in one hand, regarding her like a mage studies an insect. He let her go.

"It is as you've said, Irving. She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. The Initiate has betrayed us, then."

And then his gaze turned to me. "And _you_. Newly a mage, and already you flaunt the rules of the Circle! What am I to do with you?"

Irving spoke up then. "He is here under my orders, Gregoir. You would not have discovered the Initiate's betrayal without him."

"_What?!"_ Jowan turned on me. "You…you betrayed me?! Why?! _Why?!_ I trusted you!"

"It was you against the Circle, Jowan. I'm sorry. I had no choice."

"Don't give me that! Don't talk to me! I never want to hear from you again!"

"Enough!" Gregoir's barked order echoed from the stone walls of the tower. "This Blood Mage, I sentence to death. As to the Initiate, take her to Aeonar!"

Lily blanched. "Aeonar?! No, not the Mage's Prison-anything but that!"

Two Templars approached and grabbed Lily by the arms. She screamed.

"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"

All eyes turned to Jowan, as he pulled a knife from the back of his belt and slit his wrist. And just like that, everything changed. The blood surged from his wrist and slammed into the Templars like a tidal wave, leaving Lily untouched. He next turned his fury on his would-be captors, effortlessly blasting away Irving, Gregoir, and his entire contingent of Templars.

"Jowan stop!" I was horrified. And terrified. It all felt so…_wrong_. It was a perversion of the magic that had been my comfort and my passion for as long as I could remember. It made me ill.

He turned to me, and in that moment, I couldn't recognize my oldest friend. A sneer crossed his face, and then I found myself flying backwards, hitting the wall and falling…

When I came to, Jowan was gone, Gregoir was howling orders to the Templars at the top of his lungs, and Irving's hand was in my face.

I grabbed it and allowed him to pull me to my feet.

"Are you hurt?"

"Well, he didn't do my head any favors, but I'll live."

"Thank the Maker. I thought I had lost both of you."

I took in the scene of absolute devastation, the fully armed and armored Templars tossed around like rag dolls, the groaning of the injured.

"I had no idea…" I said.

"It is Blood Magic," Irving pronounced, grimly. "The boy is lost to us."

"Is he awake?" Gregoir grabbed me by the neck and hefted me into the air.

"Did you help Jowan destroy his phylactery?" He began to choke me.

"Orders-" I managed to spit out. "Irving's…orders…"

"Gregoire, put him down! I told you, he was acting under my orders."

He looked past me to regard the First Enchanter. "And this improves the situation? You aren't all-knowing, Irving. You don't know how much influence the Blood Mage might have had!"

"Please..please stop choking me…"

"Knight-Commander, if I might have a word." From out of nowhere, Duncan materialized. Gregoir looked like he wanted to hit him. He looked like he wanted to hit _anyone_, and I was the only one within range who he could take out his frustrations on.

"I have things under control here, Warden."

"Clearly. I have use of this mage. I'm not just recruiting for the King's Army-I'm also recruiting for the Grey Wardens. Waging war against the darkspawn requires a Warden to make hard choices-choices like the one that this mage has made today."

Gregoir dropped me, and I rubbed my throat, gasping for breath. "I need to investigate what has happened here, and I will _not_ release this mage to the Grey Wardens!"

Duncan walked right up to the Knight-Commander's face and calmly said, "I hereby invoke the Rite of Conscription, and take full responsibility for this mage."

For a long, tense moment, the two faced off, and for the first time in my life, Gregoir turned away first.

"I need to see to the Templars. Rest assured, we will find your friend, mage."

"I don't think he's my friend anymore," I muttered. For the second time in minutes, Irving helped me to me feet.

"I'm going to be honest here-I'm not going to miss him." I said.

"I'm glad you are unhurt. You are going with the Grey Wardens now. There is a whole world out there for you."

"Am…am I to leave the Tower forever?"

Irving smiled at me. "The Tower never forgets its apprentices-but the Wardens shall be your family now. I thought this is what you wanted. To see the world, to fight the darkspawn, and use your talents to help people."

"Yeah, but…but I wanted to go _home_ afterwards."

The Circle of Magi can be a somewhat stoic place. The threat of death hangs over everyone, and the Templars are always watching. But there, before I left forever, the First Enchanter did something that no one had ever done for me for as long as I could remember.

He gathered me into a hug.

"Go, child. Be a Grey Warden. And make us all proud."

As he walked away, I took one last look at the Tower of the Circle of Ferelden. My home. The walls were stained with blood, and the air echoed with the moans of wounded knights. A glint of steel caught my eye, and as I drew near to it, I saw the knife that Jowan had used.

I knelt down and picked it up. It was wet with blood, that knife, and I fully intended to return it to its owner. Slipping it into the back of my belt, I turned to leave.

Duncan was waiting. And so was the Blight.


End file.
